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268 pages, Kindle Edition
First published May 5, 2020

"Sights and sounds pull me back down another year... I was here. I was here."
"I had yet to prove myself, to prove the piano was ready to carve a new place for herself in a snob-ridden pop culture playing for sinners—me being one—sweating out the demons with my left heel on the sustain pedal, singing for salvation, a sonic daughter of Jezebel with my right hip open to a southern church revival."
Collective trauma is its own energy.Doesn't that just describe the here and now.
The young artist's journey is made up of a number of components, not least the ways they see older people act when it comes to issues of morality and accountability.
Just as a gay bar may have been the safest place for a thirteen-year-old girl, a hotel bar near the White House was the most revealing place for a teenage girl to bear witness to the wheeling and dealing of supposedly moral men, some of whom were laying the groundwork for a compromised future.
It is a different game that must be played when you are on the bottom of the music business food chain.
The goal is to make each night a collaborative statement that cannot be erased because the set list is a time capsule in itself and tells me everything I need to remember about that day. Sound check does not begin until around 4:30 p.m., so the set list probably is not decided until 7:00 for an 8:20 curtain.
Which one of my flaws has gotten out of the back seat and is now driving the car? When a flaw starts driving the car, your alarm bells need to start ringing.
Improvisation might not seem like a survival tactic, but it was mine. This is when the skill of turning musical themes I had been hearing over the week into variations on those themes came into being. It was imperative that Dad believe that the Rolling Stones' songs or any other "devil music" was not what I was playing--not only because it could pervert a young mind like mine, but he had to believe I was practicing what the Peabody had assigned.
[Post 9/11: ]Someone at a radio station showed me a list of banned records, that is, songs that could not be played on air in light of the tragedy. It didn't surprise me that songs with the words "airplane," "fire," and "crash" in the title were on the list. But then I saw one word.
Imagine.
The radio guy said to me, "Can you believe those clowns banned 'Imagine'?"
My response to him was, "Yes, I can actually believe that the Hawks would want to ban 'Imagine.' They banned it because songs can be dangerous. And the ideology of 'Imagine' is everything that they do not want the masses to remember."
Over the years, Russians have confided in me how they defend themselves against this dark art of information warfare and one of its deadly symptoms--demotivation. Literally, the Russian people defend and armor themselves with art.
Once a song leaves my lair, it will form relationships that I have no control over and really should not want to have control over.A bunch of authors could learn from this.
"Follow the threads that are woven within the Song Beings. They will get you to where you need to go. And be receptive to which Song Beings are coming to you, not just the ones you personally favor."
"Once they found out about the gay bar that had given me a chance, some good Christians warned that we along with those homosexuals were going to burn in the fiery rivers of hell. I was quite proud of my father's response to that rabble: 'There is no safer place for a thirteen-year-old girl than in an all-gay bar.' Amen, dad."
"'Girl' would say, That's natural. That part of you served her purpose. Thank her and let her go.
'Just like that?' I'd ask.
Send her off with a margarita. She'll be fine."
"Death is messy, and I am leaking."
"For me the magic twelve were the twelve notes of a scale. By adding the piano to the circle this magic became my magic thirteen."

